


Ode to the Boy I Love

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little, Bar, Comfort, Did I Mention, Draco Malfoy plays Piano, Drinking, Glove Kink, Harry is Gobsmacked, Inspiration, Light Angst, M/M, Piano, and a lot of, and instantly into it, in a, some - Freeform, troye sivan - Freeform, with a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: I told you something safeSomething I've never said beforeAnd I, I, I can't keep my hands off youOr the one where Draco is a piano player and Harry can't get enough.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 43
Kudos: 189





	Ode to the Boy I Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OTPshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/gifts).



> Written for my good friend, Rockmarina, who is a beautiful poet and a beautiful person. Happy birthday darling!
> 
> Thank you SO much to my betas Lex and Roonil, I really appreciate your hard work on making this fic sing!

Harry had just clinked glasses with Ron when he heard the first chord progression from the corner of the darkened bar. A small clink of keys, the shift of a bench, and then another chord, louder. Then silence once more.

He knocked back his  Tanqueray, savouring the feel of gin gliding down his throat before peering into the corner. Suddenly the stage lit up in a beam of light, exposing the black piano, the ivory keys, the pale, lithe form sitting on a stool, back rigid, gold-blond hair in a tight bun.

“Oh, huh,” Ron said from beside Harry. “Didn’t know he played here.”

“Played?” Harry asked, turning to his best friend. “He plays?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it.”

“No,” Harry said too quickly. Then he over corrected. “I mean, is that even him? Could be anyone.”

“Anyone who looks just like Malfoy, alright mate.” Ron signalled the barkeep for two more glasses, but Harry lifted his hand to stop him. 

“I’m…... I think I’m going to head out.” Harry stood and ran a hand through his hair before glancing over at the small stage once more. “Yeah, I should-”

But then he stopped as a single key began to pulse in the background, once, twice, three four five in a rhythm. He watched, his heart racing, as one long finger — pale, practically white — pulsed on a solitary key.

And then a voice. 

_ I'm so tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love _

“Leave?” Ron asked, but Harry just hushed him as he sat back on the stool, unconsciously grabbing Ron’s drink from the counter. He sipped, and barely realised he tasted whisky instead of gin, as he listened to the beautiful song filling the bar. 

“Hermione’s going to kill me,” Ron muttered. “This is going to be a thing.”

“Did you know he could do this?” Harry whispered, his eyes never leaving the man on the stage. He squinted, and watched how those hands danced across the keys. They blended in so much that he could barely tell where the piano ended and his hands began. 

Ron shrugged. “Most Purebloods learn music as part of their extracurriculars. Mum always wanted us to learn the violin. Bill knows a few notes on the sax. I think Charlie has a drum set somewhere.” He must have ordered another glass for himself, as Harry heard the glass hit the bar with a thud. “You never heard Neville practicing the clarinet?”

“No.” Harry sipped more out of his drink, wincing when the ice clanked against his teeth. He couldn’t stop  _ looking _ , noticing how the pianists black robes hugged his body as he swayed back and forth, how his sleeves cut right above his wrists. He now noticed that what he had thought was pale skin were actually white gloves, probably leather, and knowing the wearer, probably supple and expensive.

_ Everybody around me's fallin' in love to our song _

As he sang it, soft and sweet, his grey eyes scanned the bar until they connected with Harry’s own. He inhaled, then mouthed a quick “hello” across the expanse of the bar.

Malfoy’s mouth was moving, but Harry couldn’t concentrate on the lyrics. Only on the blush that was creeping up the sides of Malfoy’s face, of the quirk in the corner of his mouth, of the way his hands continued to play seemingly of their own accord. 

It took a nudge from Ron to bring Harry back to center. He blinked, and Malfoy turned, his focus back on his piano and his keys.

_ Killing my lonely nights with strangers And when they leave, I go back to our song, I hold on _

“Haven’t seen him in a while,” Ron said as he downed the rest of his drink. “Maybe a year ago?”

“Not since the trials.” Or the night before, when Malfoy showed up at his door while the storm brewed outside. He had been soaked, his robes clinging to his skin, his hair matted to the side. 

“Potter, if this is my last night of freedom.” He had paused then, hesitating for a moment as raindrops trickled down his chin, gathering in the hollow of his throat, before flinging himself into Harry’s arms.

Once inside, Harry discovered that it wasn’t the rain running down his face, but rather tears, clumping in his eyelashes, gathering below his nose, pooling in his collarbones. Harry kissed him then, each drop of emotion, each fluttering eyelash. Dragging him to the couch, he held Malfoy, whispering calming words into his ear about how it would never happen, how Harry would never let anything like that happen to Draco. How he was safe now, how Harry would make sure of it. 

He had gone to bed that night, an arm wrapped tight around Malfoy’s waist and his hand threaded through soft flaxen hair. His grip was empty in the morning.

Still, Harry had kept his word. He spoke at the trial about how instrumental Malfoy and his mother were to his survival. How integral they both were to saving the Magical world. When he turned and left the chambers, after a full pardon on both Malfoy’s behalves, Harry had taken one last look at towards the man he had held in his arms, in his bed just the night before, and had smiled.

Malfoy had bitten his lip and stared at the floor, and that was it. The last time they saw each other.

Until the bar, and his piano, and his voice that was so beautiful and raw, his hands gliding over the keys with such melodic precision. The tempo was increasing, making Harry’s heart pound as Malfoy sang out over the notes.

_ And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small, Though I try to resist I still want it all _

“I’ve got to head home,” Ron said, and his voice startled Harry. He had almost forgotten his friend was there, sitting in the same bar on the next stool over. “Besides, his set’s almost done.”

“Really?” Harry couldn’t help but feel disappointed that it was almost over. What was he supposed to do now? Come back to this bar again, sit on this stool and watch? 

He knew he wasn’t the ‘sit back and watch’ kind of guy. 

“You go on ahead, Ron.”

“Hermione will kill me if I leave you here.”

“I’ll say nice things at your funeral.”

He could feel Ron’s eyes boring into his skull, but Harry couldn’t find it in him to care. Finally, he felt the air behind him shift, and the chime of the bar door as Ron exited. 

_ I wanna sleep next to you, but that's all I wanna do right now, so come over now and talk me down _

The song concluded, and instead of starting up a new progression, Malfoy ran the back of his hand across his forehead and turned to the audience.

“Hi, I’m Draco Malfoy, and thank you for listening to my songs tonight.” He paused when one person clapped, showing their appreciation. “I, eh,” Malfoy paused, scratching his chin for a moment and then shaking his head. “I have something to say before we conclude with my last song, and I appreciate your patience.”

“I have a friend here tonight. He’s really more of a ghost, a boy that at one point I thought was all but gone.” His eyes — grey and bright under the spotlight — met Harry’s, and he smiled softly. “A man who stood next to me when he had no reason to. The man I owe my life to.”

Harry felt himself smile back, lifting his hand in the tiniest of waves, and with a small nod, Draco turned back to the keys. 

“And because he put his heart on the line that day, I’m going to finally put mine on the line as well. So, Potter, I’m letting you know that I wrote this song for you.”

_ An ode to the boy I love _

Harry’s heart caught in his throat. Had Draco really just said what he thought he had? His hands were shaking as he tried to memorise each word, his mind swimming with thoughts and lyrics and notes.

The song swelled and Harry’s heart carried with it, filling and pulsing with the beat. He wanted to run to the stage and pull Draco into his arms, but he also felt moored in place, held still by the lyrics and melody and the confessions escaping in song. 

_ I am an animal with you _

The final chords rang through the bar, and a few people clapped as the light shining on Malfoy and his piano dimmed. Harry didn’t waste any time, knowing quite well how Malfoy could escape in the dark.

“Draco,” Harry exhaled as soon as he was close enough to the stage. 

“Potter.” He wouldn’t look at Harry, only at the cold glass of water in his gloved hand, the other one still resting on the keys as if thanking them for their performance.

Harry wanted to thank that piano too. He wanted to kiss every key, and then every leather-cloaked finger they had touched for bringing them together in this darkened bar.

“That was beautiful.” Harry couldn’t stop staring at his face, at his nose and his eyelashes and the twinge of muscle in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not.” Harry stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a terrified Thestral. “I’m so — _ fuck _ — that was just really breathtaking. I didn’t know you played.”

“You don’t know much about me, Potter,” Draco snapped. 

Harry couldn’t figure out what had changed. He had just confessed his love, or at least his like, for Harry, and now he was being a right prick?

“I know,” Harry answered. “But you left before I-”

“Before you could what?” Draco turned abruptly, grey steel now piercing into Harry’s eyes. “Before you could kick me out?”

“I wouldn’t have. I wanted to-” Harry paused, then took a deep breath. “I wanted to take you to breakfast. To walk you to the trial. I had hoped that after you were freed, we could…” He shrugged.

“Date?”

“Would it have been the worst thing in the world?”

“No worse than going to Azkaban.”

“At least a couple of ticks higher on the pleasant scale?”

“Three at the most.” 

Harry grinned, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually, Draco’s lips turned up in a small smile.

“So, what do you usually do after these things?”

“After playing for two hours straight? I have a martini and head to bed.”

Harry tilted his head to the bar. “Well then, Malfoy, care to have a drink with me?"

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics in italics are Draco singing, but are Troye Sivan songs. The songs in order are:
> 
> _I'm so tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love_   
>  _Everybody around me's fallin' in love to our song_   
>  _Killing my lonely nights with strangers And when they leave, I go back to our song, I hold on ___  
>  [I'm so Tired - Lauv and Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvgBbpz_uvU)   
>  _And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small, Though I try to resist I still want it all_   
>  [Fools - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPGtZCosAuE)   
>  _I wanna sleep next to you, but that's all I wanna do right now, so come over now and talk me down_   
>  [Talk Me Down - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZHCa102krM)   
>  _An ode to the boy I love_   
>  _I am an animal with you_   
>  [Animal - Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrMax7AWOlU)   
>    
> 


End file.
